


Capital Vices

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bribery, Deception, F/M, Interrogation, Seduction, subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: Ahh, humanity.  So bright, so varied, soeasyto manipulate.  Useful tools, all.Well, mostly.  But tools that fail to serve their purpose are invariably discarded.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Capital Vices

He who leads the way follows best, for the quarry that believes itself the hunter never realizes it is the prey.

Fandaniel's target dropped onto the stool next to his with a soul-deep groan. His curses and waves had no effect on the busy bartender’s attention. A casual glance over a dingy uniform, tarnished insignia… yes. Curiosity should not be too out of place.

“Busy night, eh?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the din.

The decurion made as though to spit. “No kiddin’. Can’t get no bleedin’ respect either.”

With an easy smile, Fandaniel slid his second drink—untouched—to the man. “It’s a right shame. Have one on me while you wait, friend.”

Interest sparked in his eyes as he looked Fandaniel over. “Thank ye kindly, friend. You’re an all right sort, I think.”

“You’re far too kind. But tell me, what brings you to this dive?”

Fandaniel played that he didn’t already know this fellow’s “tragic” tale, the fall from grace, the disrespect from superiors, the thinly veiled mockery of subordinates… everything seemed to turn against him. Especially those he had treated so cavalierly before his disgrace, funny enough. Sympathetic noises and free-flowing drink carried them into the wee hours, until the bar closed down and dumped them out.

“‘Snot right, chief. ‘Sall wrong.”

Fandaniel, supporting the poor sodden decurion with an arm under his shoulder, patted him absently. “You’re telling me, friend. You’re telling me.”

Together they staggered to a run-down lodge, where the decurion flopped unceremoniously into his bed. Fandaniel made a few rearrangements to keep him from falling back out, but it was plain he was already gone.

He smiled.

Deft fingers groped about beneath his gambeson, found a fold of parchment. The light of the full moon, dimmed by grime, sufficed to read the contents. Magic twisted through the air, words shifting upon the page until it read what  _ he _ desired it to. Soft snores barely paused as he replaced the missive. The man’s superiors would have no reason to lend the Populares’ claims any credence now, with this new information confirming Asahi sas Brutus’s survival.

Perfect.

* * *

Fandaniel gave Asahi’s most charming smile, swirling his wineglass idly. The deep ruby liquid sparkled in the light of the chandelier overhead. Soft murmurs and the clink of silver and porcelain rang all about the table, and he inhaled deeply over the glass in his hand, savoring the bouquet of the fine wine. One last twirl, and he tipped it back for a sip.

“Delectable,” he proclaimed, raising a smile to his host—one Herodotus—to showcase his approval. “My compliments to your sommelier.”

A smile of satisfaction spread on his face, pleasure at his guest’s reaction. “I shall be sure to pass them on! But you must try it with the soup.”

Before them was a sumptuous repast; waiters bustled about clearing out the remains of the hors d'oeuvres, small animals and buildings designed from pâté, sweetmeats, and garnished toast wedges. Arranged in a spiral were dishes of increasing size, some covered by metal cloches, some—salads, desserts and other cold dishes—by fine crystal bells. At the center of it all was a whole roast boar, spiced, seasoned, and garnished. The aroma had Fandaniel’s stomach rumbling already.

Following his host’s suggestion, he sampled the still-steaming soup that had just been delivered. A sip of the wine chased it… ah. Now  _ that _ was why he was here. The flavors mingled subtly on his tongue, drawing an appreciative hum from him.

“See?”

He shot Herodotus a grin. “If this is the second course, I simply cannot  _ wait _ for the rest!”

Course after course was served for their perusal, and Fandaniel savored each in turn. He had dared to hope his host would deliver on his reputation as an epicure, and he was not disappointed. Each course was accompanied by a different and perfectly paired drink, and tongues soon loosened around the table, talk flowing as freely as the wine. 

As he warmed and relaxed into his role, Fandaniel marveled at the way the upper crust communicated. No conversation topic during the meal was of grave import; instead each comment or question or story was angled to increase influence or showcase affluence. He had seen it time and again, the subtle and exclusionary behaviors the wealthy used to judge one another, to decide who was in and who was out.

He, of course, was just coming into vogue, just hitting his stride. As his role, and mission, required.

As desserts were served (alongside a delicate ice wine) talk finally began to turn to business, current events and politics creeping into the discussion. He held his tongue, waiting for what he knew must surely be coming—technically the reason he was here, though he had of course maneuvered events to combine his return to the public eye with a feast worthy of the occasion. Eventually, he knew, his silence would be noted, his mysterious smile analyzed.

“So tell us, Lord Brutus—the rumors were quite pernicious for a time. What truly transpired in Doma?”

Fandaniel smiled.

* * *

Music swelled and soared, rising to the high ceiling of the ballroom. All about, bright colors whirled, dancers borne on the currents sent forth by the orchestra. But Fandaniel was searching for one particular bloom in this garden.

"My lady! Full glad am I to see you once more. And may I say, you are absolutely  _ ravishing _ this eve! Please tell me you have saved me a dance…?"

His flattering words and earnest countenance won him the requested boon, and for a time they twirled across the floor together. It was she who drew him out of the crowd, away from the hall, to a secluded balcony beneath the stars. A different chorus played here, frogs and night insects and a distant owl. Shared warmth chased off the night's chill. Eventually, though, the cold grew too much, and they crept through half-deserted hallways dodging waitstaff and servants with breathless hushed whispers and giggles. With the bustle and distraction of the grand ball, none seemed to mark their absence. Whether the room they landed in at last was hers Fandaniel neither knew nor cared; it had a large, plush bed, and that was enough.

Now as warmed as the night had grown chill, heart fast and head pleasure-giddy, he lounged, alternating between playful teasing and exchanging gossip and tales. All too soon the night grew short, and it was no great difficulty to show how he wished he might linger, or return. Joy tinged bittersweet, lips and fingers entwined, and finally…

“Please… say you will call upon me again, won’t you?”

He smiled. “My lady, nothing would give me more pleasure.”

* * *

Fandaniel surveyed the gathered troops in their neat rows and columns from the grandstand's box. "Remarkable," he murmured, and turned to the legatus beside him. "Tell me—how  _ did _ you manage to improve your legion's cohesion so? And in a time of such unfortunate turmoil, no less!"

With a smile a malm wide the legatus launched into a complicated drama of intrigue and machination. Fandaniel had little interest in the iron-fisted treatment of his men, but impressed and encouraging noises gradually moved the conversation to the minutiae of troop and supply movements—those tedious yet essential matters that were as blood in the veins of any great military juggernaut.

Of course, to Fandaniel they were anything  _ but _ tedious—this was the entire reason for this inspection. That, and seeing to it that all the players in this drama would act out the roles he had so meticulously planned for them.

He kept a mask of fascination on his face even as he began planning how best to leverage this new—and most helpful—information, praising the legatus profusely on his skill as a leader and strategist. Pleased with both information and progress, he went his way with a smile on his face.

* * *

The bound tribunus raged, struggling against his bonds, spittle flecking his stained uniform as he spat a non-stop stream of curses at Lord Brutus. Fandaniel watched him with icy confidence.

He knew just how to move such a man.

Once the prisoner wore himself out Fandaniel spoke. "Pathetic. Is the rest of your legion so ill-equipped and poorly disciplined?"

The tirade that followed would have been laughable but for the kernel of truth threaded through the threats and boasts. Maintaining his cold demeanor, Fandaniel filed carefully away everything he thought worth following up on.

"You really think your friends are going to save you?"

More bluster, more curses and bravado. More tidbits of truth, as the captive's fury drained enough for logic to enter, though not enough to shut his mouth. Once more the tirade petered away into increasingly unnerved silence.

This time he used the silence, let it speak for him at the time. After a minute, the tribunus's eyes began to dart about the room. Good.

"I know not whether you are a liar or a fool, but this I do know: your unit is weak. Unprepared, poorly trained. The lucky ones will join you in our care soon—"

Again this provoked the prisoner's tongue. Fandaniel had to hide a smile of satisfaction as more puzzle pieces fell together, fragments of truth gleaned from the tribunus's vitriol.

Excellent. Yes, this would do nicely.

* * *

Another bar, another mission. Another excuse to drink, which suited Fandaniel just fine. His prey this time required less of a subtle touch, at least; instead of needing to leave no solid memory of himself, here he wanted to be remembered. He let his brisk gait falter and stop, resting a hand on the back of the empty chair facing his quarry.

"Apologies for the intrusion, but I simply must ask—are you by chance Acantha jen Cenotus?"

It was comical, the way her head snapped up. Eyes wide, she stared for a moment. "Ah—yes, that's me." Her eyebrows drew together as she scrutinized his face. "Forgive me. You look familiar…"

He gave his most genteel bow. "Asahi sas Brutus, at your service." The dawning recognition, chased as it was by panic, brought a smile to his lips. "Please, remain at ease. I simply couldn't pass by without saying hello. It was just the other day you were under review for promotion." He schooled his face to a grave expression. "A shame the tribunus angusticlavius did not see things as I did." He paused, played hesitant. "Might I join you?"

"Er—of course, my lord."

"None of that now," he said with a smile, taking his seat. A wave to the waiter standing by to serve him sent the man scuttling off to get drinks. "Running a house may be a full-time job, but I should like to at least  _ pretend _ I might be at my leisure this evening. Please, call me Asahi."

For a moment she struggled with the idea before surrendering. "If you insist."

The waiter returned with two glasses of cognac; he took one and waved the other to her. Her hesitance died when the glass touched her lips; by the startled pleasure that slipped her guard she had never had an opportunity to taste something so fine. It had the desired effect of encouraging her to relax, to loosen her lips, and for a time they spoke of naught but pleasantries. Slowly, carefully he shifted their discussion toward more serious matters. Finally he deemed the moment ripe and made his next move.

"I must ask, what brings one so young and lovely to a place such as this? And alone, moreover?"

"It's just," she waved the glass in her hand, slopping the liquid within alarmingly, "it's too quiet at home. Thoughts get too loud. At least here there's noise to drown it out." She sighed and took another drink. "You ever feel like you took the wrong path and now you're stuck, with no way back?"

At that Fandaniel turned serious. "As a matter of fact… Well. It was not long ago that I thought I might never be free to pursue my own goals, my own dreams. For a long time, I just accepted it." He smiled briefly. "Easier that way. Plus no need to worry about trying and failing. But one day I came to realize I wanted more. I turned my back and said—enough. I want to make my own road."

Her eyes, bright in the dimmed room, shone into his. "How have you found it? Do you regret it?"

"Regret?" He gave a hearty laugh. "No. Not a bit. Not to say it has always been easy, or simple. But it has always proven worthwhile."

She nodded, her gaze turning inward, going thoughtful.

He kept his next words slow, staring at the drink between his hands as though burdened by hesitance. "I suppose… while I am not a military man, I confess I favored you for the promotion rather than Cassius. I did not voice my concerns at the time but… in retrospect I feel that may have been a mistake." In his periphery he saw her head come up as her gaze fixed on him. Another moment, drawn out to mimic deliberation, and then he gave a decisive nod. "I shall speak to the tribunus in charge. Surely it is not too late to reassign you."

Her eyes flew wide. "Oh… perhaps. But—please, there is no need to go to such trouble on my account."

"Nonsense." He gave her a warm smile. "I should have spoken my mind at the time. It is the least I can do. I daresay you deserve no less. After all, the whole institution benefits from installing the best available candidate, no?"

"Well, yes, I suppose." A troubled look clouded her face.

"Then there you have it. It will be no trouble at all to set things right, just you see."

But the expression did not clear at his reassurance. She took a deep breath. "As much as it pains me to confess it… I don't know if I really would be the best choice for that promotion."

"Come now, my dear, you sell yourself short. I think you would fill the position wonderfully!"

But still she hesitated. "You are very kind. But… well, I hesitate to call myself an  _ expert _ in my field, but I certainly know it well. Cassius, though, he's always pushing the boundaries. Always finding some new thing or trying out some clever idea. He really  _ will _ fit better in an experimental research field than I would." Expression pained, she looked down at her hands, falling silent.

Fandaniel hid a frown. This sudden fit of selflessness was most inconvenient. "If this is true, then perhaps he needs one like you as his superior. To keep his head out of the clouds, to keep him on task. And why should you not receive a promotion? From what I saw, none work so hard as you. Have you not earned this?"

She digested his words in silence, and he found himself holding his breath. Having her in the research position—and beholden to him, of course—would be ever so convenient. As would Cassius's fury and dejection at having a coveted position pulled out from beneath him.

"I don't know. I just…" She sighed heavily. "I confess I want to… if only to shove it in Cassius's face. He's been…" She grimaced and terminated the line of thought. "I just don't know. As disappointed as I was to hear he got picked, a part of me was relieved. I won't ever hold a high position now. But that means less stress, less responsibility. Maybe it's for the best. I feel like a fraud as it is, pretending to be ambitious, pretending to be so good at my job." Her eyes rose to his, and he read her resolve in them. "Thank you, Asahi. It means a lot that you believe in me. But I think it's better this way. Don't waste your time on me."

Forcing a smile, he tipped his head, toeing the line between thought and playfulness. "If you're certain, then. It is truly a shame, but as I said before—I am no military man. In this, I must bow to your expertise." It was plain he had wasted his time tonight—well, aside from enjoying the cognac. That, at least, had been quite lovely. A casual glance at the clock on the wall drew her attention to the time, and her eyes flew wide.

"I should get going. Gotta work in the morning, you know." She stood, awkward suddenly. "I enjoyed your company. Thank you again."

"Of course," he said smoothly, keeping his irritation well concealed. "Have a pleasant evening. Mayhap we shall meet again."

With a wave, she departed, and Fandaniel scowled after her back. How terribly inconvenient. He would have to find another way to gain the access he needed, it seemed.

* * *

"Well?"

A soft clink served as Fandaniel's response. The man's eyes lit with greed at the sight of the fat purse he hefted. His hands darted out to cradle it.

"The reports?" Fandaniel asked, holding to the sack a moment longer.

"Right here, just as promised."

Fandaniel released his grip, following the tilt of the man's head to the table behind him. A sheaf of papers lay there, a relatively crude copy of the information he wanted, but one that, unlike the electronic system used by the researchers, would not be missed or easily tracked. He skimmed the information while his contact counted the money; within a few moments they both found themselves well satisfied with the exchange.

"A pleasure, as always." Fandaniel smiled, offering a slight bow. "I shall be in contact when next I require information."

"It's getting harder and harder, you know, to avoid questions "

Fandaniel nodded gravely, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I understand. I shall see that your next compensation reflects that."

With a gruff "hmph" the man left clutching his money, and Fandaniel paged through the report to a particular line that had caught his eye, reading it more carefully now. Interesting…

With a smile, he tucked the sheaf of paper into his jacket and teleported away.


End file.
